


A Cruel and Unusual Punishment

by Asreoniplier (AsreonInfusion)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Choking, D/s elements, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Light Bondage, Mind Break (Mild), PWP, Tentacle Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsreonInfusion/pseuds/Asreoniplier
Summary: At first you don’t spot the difference; it’s hard to determine movement when everything is pitch black against black. What you do see is the way that aura around Dark flickers, thin streaks of it bleeding out beneath him, seeming to spread like roots towards you. It crackles and distorts and, where it touches, the darkness swells and pulses into some perverted semblance of life.You stare at the things with wide eyes, recognition clicking immediately but comprehension failing to follow. Because those look a lot like Dark’s manipulating the void to createtentaclesout of it. And, honestly, what the fuck.[Darkiplier x Reader fic, in which Dark is able to summon darkness-tentacles and use them for smutty purposes. Yeah.]





	A Cruel and Unusual Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS:** Still not a healthy relationship, even though the reader character is into it. Manipulation and all sorts of abuses on Dark’s end. Multiple/forced orgasm? And tentacles. …Yeah.

You never learn your lesson, do you? You never fucking learn. It should really be blatantly obvious by this point that talking back to a demon is a bad idea, but here you are again. Just can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.

Dark’s fingers are cold as ice, their grip around the back of your neck dangerously gentle. Offering you the illusion of freedom, but if you try to pull away, you know you’ll only be making your situation exponentially worse.

The transition between dimensions always makes your stomach churn; for a human it feels utterly unnatural, slipping between the cracks in reality. As much shit as you’ve seen, that still fucks up your mind more than the rest.

So you end up stumbling as the two of you enter the void; Dark does nothing to stop you, his grip tightening only briefly before letting go and allowing you to plunge to your knees. You don’t bother getting back up.

He slowly walks around to stand in front of you. You keep your eyes down, heart pounding and hands clenched into fists. The position is far too familiar to you; somehow you always seem to end up on your knees in front of Dark and regretting all the life choices that got you there. Now it’s just a waiting game to find out how he’s going to make you suffer this time.

“Look at me,” Dark says, a quiet demand. The sort you can’t refuse.

You can feel his presence pulling at you. The low ringing in your ears, the pressure of the darkness making your chest tighten. When you look up, you see the red and blue outlines of his auras distorting around him, tearing against the fabric of reality. If reality is even what you can call it when there’s nothing left but the endless expanse of darkness.

You really hate being in the void; it’s unsettling as hell.

You hate the way he looks down at you as well. So fucking _smug_. The worst of it is that his arrogance isn’t even unfounded. He radiates power and control, and as much as it might irritate you at times, you can’t deny he wields it well. Or, more succinctly; it’s hot as hell. A fact which only irritates you more.

He’s got that touch of a smirk on his face, hands clasped behind his back, and he tilts his head as his gaze pierces into you. His voice is low and smooth as he asks, “You do know why I’ve brought you here, don’t you?”

You bite your lip. “’Cause I fucked up.”

“How so?”

“How do I _not?_ Everything I do is a fuck up!” you say. Too quickly, with too much aggression; you didn’t think before opening your goddamn mouth. _Again_.

He takes a step forward, and your breath catches. You can never tell if it’s fear or anticipation that sets you so much on edge, but you’re hyperaware of every movement. He hooks his fingers beneath your jaw and tilts your head back; his touch raises the hairs on the back of your neck, and you let out a heavy, shaking breath.

“Which is precisely why you need someone to… _discipline_ you. That’s why you keep crawling on your knees back to me, isn’t it?”

You can feel you face heating up at the accusation, and you want to protest it’s not like _that_ ; he’s the one who never gave you a damn choice and dragged you into this personal hell. The whole thing is fucked up beyond belief, and you know it. You _know_.

Which only makes it all the worse that some part of you enjoys the ways he torments you.

“I don’t—”

“Think carefully about how much you want to try to defy me.”

You fall abruptly silent, and swallow hard before parting your lips again. “Dark…”

“It seems more traditional punishments aren’t of much use. One might even suspect you to be something of a masochist,” he says, taunting. Your eyes have slid away again, blushing furiously, and he yanks your head to make you look up. “So why don’t we try something a little more _interesting_ to acquire your compliance?”

You… you really don’t like the way he says that. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, a cruel amusement in his eyes.

He steps back until there’s a couple of metres between you. Your stomach flips as you watch him crack his neck; he’s wearing that smug, seductive little smirk as he snaps his fingers and the darkness of the void shifts around you.

At first you don’t spot the difference; it’s hard to determine movement when everything is pitch black against black. What you _do_ see is the way that aura around Dark flickers, thin streaks of it bleeding out beneath him, seeming to spread like roots towards you. It crackles and distorts and, where it touches, the darkness swells and pulses into some perverted semblance of life.

You stare at the things with wide eyes, recognition clicking immediately but comprehension failing to follow. Because those look a lot like Dark’s manipulating the void to create _tentacles_ out of it. And, honestly, what the _fuck._

Two of the tentacles lunge for you, wrapping around each of your arms and yanking them out to the side, dragging you forward. That’s enough to snap you out of your horrified stupor, and you shriek as you try to pull away from them.

Squirming does no good. Their grip is just as tight as Dark’s, only _worse_ because you can feel the way they slide against you, the darkness roiling like solid muscle, and oh, god, that’s beyond disturbing.

“Dark!” you protest, voice shaking. He’s not—he can’t be planning to use these things. ‘Cause your mind is only going very dirty places when you think tentacles and no, nope, no way, he _wouldn’t_. He couldn’t. Could he?

He only smiles at you, eyes smouldering darkly as more of the tentacles wrap around your body. They’re around your ankles and your knees, holding you in your kneeling position while the ones around your arms drag your torso upright. There’s one that curls its way around your neck, and you whimper as it tightens; not enough to choke you properly, it loosens off just before that point, but enough to make your head spin dizzyingly.

This time you can only just manage to gasp out his name. “Dark…”

Your heartbeat echoes frantically in your own ears, breath growing choked and rapid. Fuck. He is serious. And the thought is horrifying, but at the same time…

You clench your eyes shut, trying to pretend you can’t feel your face starting to heat up as those things slide beneath your top, pretend your breath doesn’t hitch as it reaches your breasts and begins to knead against them.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” Dark says, his tone a low caress.

“Shut the _fuck_ up,” you hiss. You don’t even care about cursing at him; what more is he going to do? This is already turning into an exceptionally cruel and unusual punishment, and you don’t think he has any intention of stopping. It’s better than admitting he’s right.

The tip of the tentacle curls around a nipple and _squeezes_ in retribution, and you can’t stop a moan falling from your lips. Shit. There’s no way that you can deny that was a purely sexual sound, no more than you can deny the shock of heat it sent straight to your core.

“This is… so messed up, you know,” you shakily manage to gasp out.

Dark regards you calmly, still entirely in possession of all his composure while his toys slowly break apart yours. “I am aware. But I’m not the one getting off on it.”

“I am _not—_ ” You cut yourself off with an abrupt whimper as one of the tentacles rubs firmly between your legs. “Ahh! Fuck. Dark, come on, y-you can’t—”

“I can do whatever I please, and you will do whatever I say” he replies, a touch of hardness entering his tone. “If you would learn that, maybe you wouldn’t end up in situations like these.”

A shiver runs through you. You should hate him for talking like that, but damnit. That commanding tone does things to you.

Maybe you’re the one who’s really messed up here. Because it’s not just his voice. It’s the tentacles too; the tightness of them wrapped around your limbs, feeling their sheer _power_ as they glide across your skin, that one around your throat that threatens to choke you every time it twists and roils. Writhing against them but not being able to budge an inch, all bound up and helpless. At Dark’s mercy, when you know he has none.

And it turns you on so fucking much.

“But,” Dark adds softly, after a long moment of watching you squirm, “I am no monster. If you truly don’t want this, just tell me to stop.” His knowing smirk is proof enough; he already knows you’re not going to say no.

“Dark…”

“Tell me.”

“I… I don’t want you to stop.”

The tentacles wrapped around your legs spread your knees, the coiled tip of another reaching up to undo your jeans, and you can’t hold back a whimper. Yeah, this is definitely going where you think it is, and you just agreed to all of it.

A tentacle slides its way inside your pants, and this time you moan outright. You don’t even care when you hear Dark give a low chuckle at the sound, it just feels like such a relief to have something, _anything_ , touching you right now.

Your face feels like it’s burning, flushed with arousal and shame at the same time. Those things have your top shoved up to your shoulders, dragging your jeans and underwear down to your knees, and it’s humiliating to be exposed like that in front of Dark. Especially since he hasn’t even moved; he’s as immaculate as ever in his pristine suit, only the twist of his lips and the dark hunger in his eyes betraying that he’s enjoying watching more than he lets on.

It’s so messed up, and honestly, you’re a goddamn disgrace, but it feels _good_. Even having Dark watching makes heat curl in your gut. And that tentacle… you rock your hips against it, eyes glazed and a soft groan on your lips. That’s nice. Oh, that’s nice, but you know what you really want. Your body is practically thrumming with the need to get something inside you. And if the only option is a tentacle, you’ll take it. No pun intended.

“So needy,” Dark observes.

“This is, nn… all your fault,” you reply accusingly.

He huffs a wry laugh. “I am not the one controlling your reactions.”

Not this time, at least. But he’s still the one who always manages to bring you to your knees and turn you into a complete wreck, and you shoot at weak glower at him in return. Given that you’re half-naked, flushed and panting and moments away from becoming intimately acquainted with one of the tentacles of Dark’s summoning, your glare doesn’t really hold much weight.

You shudder, pleasure flaring through you as the tentacle curls against your slick entrance. You’re embarrassingly wet already, the ache between your legs practically palpable. “Ugh. Dark, _please_.”

“It’s cute how you think you’re in any position to demand anything.”

“Please…” you repeat. You’re not demanding, you’re _begging._

Of course, he has to be an asshole and leave you squirming for far longer than necessary. But finally, oh, fucking _finally_ , the tentacle sinks into you.

You moan, back arching as you tremble around the thing inside you. It’s not too thick; more reminiscent of a finger or two, and it has all the flexibility of them as well. The way it curls and strokes against you has you writhing in an instant; you have to wonder exactly how much control Dark has over them, because once the tentacle finds the spot that makes you cry out, he’s utterly relentless in continuing to torment _right there_.

Another tentacle hooks over your hip and slides down, taking over from the original in stroking over your clit. And that one around your chest won’t let up either, switching from slowly winding beneath your breasts to actively toying with and tugging at your nipples, and the one around your throat squeezing just enough that the threat of it thrills you, and—and, god, that’s a lot of things at once, and the combined pleasure feels like it’s going to short out your brain.

He couldn’t just leave it at that, could he? A second tentacle presses against you, curling around the one already inside as it sinks in as well, and a whimper bursts from your lips. Ohhh. That’s a lot thicker now; not uncomfortably so, but enough that it leaves you feeling deliciously full.

And then he starts fucking you with them.

“D- _Dark!!_ ” you scream brokenly. That’s the only coherent word you manage to get out; after that, you can’t make any sound apart from whimpers and moans and the occasional pleasured sob.

Fuck. Oh, _fuck_. You should hate this, you really should. You should feel used and humiliated and disgusted, but it only feels so damn _good_. You… you’re actually going to cum from this, you can feel the heat of it building. He’s going to make you cum by fucking you with tentacles he’s created from the sheer darkness of the void, and you want to laugh at how damn messed up that is except you’re kind of busy moaning instead.

They pick up speed, the one stroking your clit and the ones inside you, and you can feel yourself clenching and trembling around them. You cry out Dark’s name as you reach orgasm.

Your head is spinning with pleasure, body flooded with it. You let yourself go limp, allowing the tentacles to do all the work in holding you upright; they take your weight easily. Except it doesn’t stop.

The pleasure was just the right side of almost-but-not-quite-overwhelming to begin with. Now? Now it’s definitely on the overwhelming side. You’re still in your post-orgasm sensitivity and _he’s not stopping_ and it feels so good, but so good that it’s too damn much.

That’s right. You forgot this was meant to be a _punishment_.

Dark’s control is slipping too; his smile is far too wide, almost viciously so, and his aura is distorting and occasionally breaking away behind him. At some point he’s loosened his tie, and he has the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone. The hunger in his eyes is downright predatory, and you’re equal parts terrified and turned on.

“ _Please_ ,” you sob. It’s too much, good enough that it _hurts_ , and you want him to be done now. “Please, _enough!”_

He makes you cum twice more before finally allowing the tentacles to slowly withdraw. The ones around your arms and legs stay – they’re the only things holding you up at that point. You’re too exhausted, too shaky, to be able to even consider staying upright yourself.

You’re only half aware of him stepping towards you again, not registering the fact until he actually touches you. He cups your face, meeting your glazed, empty eyes before leaning in to kiss you.

It’s oddly chaste, despite how thorough he is in tasting you, despite everything else he’s just done.

Then he lets you go again, and the tentacles retract back out of existence, and you sink to the ground a trembling wreck.

“Fuck,” you groan hoarsely, the curse slurred but empathetic.

“Language,” Dark chastises. You could almost laugh – like he cares about you swearing _now_.

You’re clearly not moving, so Dark wraps an arm around your shoulders and scoops you into a halfway sitting position. You barely even notice the shift as the dimensions warp around you, but the next time you look up you’re back in your house. In your bathroom, to be specific.

“Get cleaned up,” he says.

Yeah. You seriously need that, all covered in sweat and thighs soaked with your own cum.

He leaves you to your own devices, and eventually you gather the strength and willpower to crawl into the shower. Your body is still buzzing, tired and aching but so very satisfied, and your mind is buzzing just as much. You can’t even think; everything is just vague static in your head. Just. Damn.

There’s clean pyjamas waiting for you when you’re done – how did those get there? Did he come in while you were showering? It disturbs you how little you care – and you change into them before heading downstairs.

He’s waiting for you. “Better?” he asks.

You nod silently, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a dark smile.

“Well. It seems we finally managed to find a solution for you talking back,” Dark says. You think there’s something mocking about the way he says it, but you don’t have the brain capacity to pin it down. “Let’s see how long it lasts.”

He beckons you over with a tilt of his head, and you obligingly go to his side. No thought, no protest. Not for now, at least. Maybe once you’ve recovered a bit more.

In fact, you’ll probably be repulsed by the whole thing in the morning. But for the time being, you’re content to rest your head against Dark’s shoulder and let him wrap a possessive arm around your waist, lulling you into an exhausted doze while Dark smirks above you.


End file.
